Haunted
by Artemisdesari
Summary: They thought they had won, but the war has just started. Second arc in the Hand of Sorrow Verse. Now Complete
1. Chapter 1

_So, I can't leave well enough alone, not only have I had Dean defeat Lucifer, I've got the world ending and now I have to fix it. Damn. Anyway, this will not be as long as the previous arc and is a direct follow on from the rest of the Hand of Sorrow Verse. Suffice it to say, I'm not easing up on the angst all that much. As before the lyrics at the beginning and end are from the song that inspired this part, this time Haunted, by Disturbed. It's an amazing song and I recommend you listen to it, because it just fits everything, series, my arc, the whole lot._

_**Disclaimer:** I own neither the boys, Cas or any other recognisable character, I wish I was that smart, really, but I shall have to content myself with playing with them. I don't own the song either, I'm not that talented._

Haunted.

_**You're broken, so am I  
I'm better off alone  
No one to turn to and nothing to call my own  
Outspoken, so am I  
Explosive words that your world wouldn't understand  
Turn away again**_

"_You lose."_

Lucifer's words still revolved around Dean's mind, still come to him in the middle of the night when he should be sleeping secure in the knowledge that they have saved the world. Except that the words left him filled with unease, almost what he would call dread, and the behaviour of the angels once Lucifer was dead has not made Dean feel any easier. So he has been lingering on it, lingering on the thought of it and the worry that it has caused in him and when he sees that town wiped from existence on the news, he knows the truth. They all do and even though he takes it hard, Castiel takes it harder.

He disappears, simply vanishes, one minute there, the next gone, grace not working right and Dean knows that he normally would not be able to do that, that his emotions must be running on over time at the moment and he feels for the guy, he really does. Knows that Castiel must be feeling this as a betrayal, that all his hard work to save humanity, to make sure that as many of the so called Chosen Children survived the transition from the normal world to Paradise has been in vain, because it is the angels who have done this, the angels who are the only ones capable of it, of wiping an entire town from the face of the Earth, leaving buildings and bodies and ghosts.

He remembers, when this all started, this running from angels and demons, rescuing Castiel and continuing to help to, to care about him like Dean cares about Sam and Bobby, to make him family. He remembers being told, though not who by, that if Lucifer were killed, the angels would win and there would be Paradise, that if Lucifer won there would be Hell, and if he were locked away again it would all be averted, life would go on as normal.

Somewhere in all of this they had lost sight of that. Somewhere in all the manipulation and the lies, in the general rush to stop Lucifer and save Sam, save Katie only to lose her all over again, to keep Castiel below that angelic radar and achieve the goal that they were working so hard towards. Dean knows, _knows_, that he should have thought of that, that they all should have, that there was no way that killing Lucifer was going to end this.

So, sure, they should have known that killing Lucifer would not be the end, but this is far bigger than anything that they have ever gone up against, and that _includes _Lucifer. Between them they have two knives that may or may not hurt full blown angels, a bow and quiver of seeming endless arrows and Lucifer's own sword, the one that did not save him from Dean's overwhelming need to end him. It is not a lot to use to go up against the entire armies of Heaven.

They settle in, safe in Bobby's house in South Dakota, need to investigate except that Dean is painfully aware that they need help, here, that they need Castiel's knowledge of his people to aid them in understanding why they would do this, why they would slaughter hundreds of people who are no apparent threat to their desire for Paradise. It does not mean that they do not research, they look into the meaning of Paradise in all ways that they can, find ideas of it that make them cringe, that disgust them, that makes Dean for a moment, just a moment, wonder if they should just let it all happen, then he reads something else and the impulse passes.

Underneath it all, there is the worry about Castiel, who has been missing for more than a week now, no word, no sign, and though the Winchester's contacts are no where near as extensive as Bobby's are, even the older hunter is having trouble locating him. The younger hunters have been kept relatively sheltered from other hunters, many of their father's contacts were never introduced to them, probably from a combination of paranoia and a desire to protect. Dean has never wished more that his father had taken into consideration that fact that _they_ might need the contacts too.

While the older hunter has contacts across the continent, not all of them are so eager to share information, when he calls his contact in Texas, however, it seems that he may have found the one helpful person in the state, tells them that she has promised to keep her ear to the ground, assures them that she is the best person for it in that area. Even though Dean questions Bobby's faith in this unknown woman, he trusts _Bobby_, so he does not mention it, just worries and frets and researches and when it hits the news that the third town in as many weeks has been wiped out by seemingly nothing, he figures that he cannot simply continue to sit back and wait for the answers to come to him.

There is a bitter-sweetness to their goodbyes with their surrogate father, tainted by worry and fear and the concern that something has happened to Castiel, that perhaps the angels have taken him after all and he is also taking part in this mass extermination of the human race. Dean finds himself desperately hoping that Cas is just taking the time to think. He knows that the angel needs time to think, needs time to digest what his people have done, and he wants to be angry with the angel, former angel, whatever he is now, wants to lash out and rage and demand answers that he knows that Castiel cannot give. He finds he cannot be, not with Castiel, just wants the angel to come back.

Which scares him, terrifies him, with just how easily Cas has become a part of his family, one of the few people that he genuinely gives a damn about, probably because Castiel has done so much, given up so much, for him and Dean cannot ignore that. So, yeah, he wants to know that Cas is safe, whether with them or making his own way, is concerned that they have heard nothing after three weeks and so goes out on the hunt again, looks for Castiel in the same way that he did his father, hopes that if that does not work, then one of Bobby's friends will come through for them.

Every now and then, when Sam is not listening, either asleep or out or in the bathroom, Dean will look up, to the sky, the stars, the ceiling, the inside of his head, and he will _pray_ to a God that does not listen and does not care, that Castiel is safe, that he and Sam and Bobby will _stay_ safe. That they will succeed in stopping the angels before they do too much damage. He feels foolish afterwards, but he does it all the same, figures that it worked once, perhaps it could work again.

SPN

Eyes that do not see gaze out over the remains of a town once populated by thousands of souls. Even though the wind blows the dark hair, that is slightly longer than the current owner's preferences, seems to barely move. Pale skinned fingers lift, seeming to feel the air and the life that dances there for just a moment, until it fizzles out, gone in an instant that is an eternity.

While the milky eyes do not see, the occupant of the body still can, though it is odd, muted, the colours somehow real, vivid, bright, but also warped, broken and shattered under the heavy gaze of one who sees, not with mortal eyes as his brothers and sisters do now, confined in mortal bodies until Michael's goals are achieved, but with grace, pure, bright, brilliant. Grace, like the eyes of an angel, does not see as human ones do, sees light and dark, good and evil, colours as they were created but none of their subtleties and all of their brilliance.

He does not see this world as his brethren do, sees the beauty where they cannot, feels peace where they feel violence, order where they sense chaos, beauty where they see only the vile, the dirty and the unwanted. It fills him with something like sorrow, that he kills when his main task was always to heal.

"Raphael," he hears Michael's voice, his _true_ voice, call him, closes sightless eyes though that does not stop him from seeing, and disappears from the hill and the town, leaving the spirits and lost souls alone and wandering, a final prayer for forgiveness drifting on the unfelt wind.

_**You're beaten, so am I  
I've got a heart of stone  
No medication can cure what has taken hold  
You're hurting, so will I  
When I awake and remember why I've been running from your**_

_Reviews are little Castiels that fly above our heads and mini Deans under the bed. A small Sam in hand and a tiny John by the chair, a review_ _that can show how much you care._

_Artemis_


	2. Chapter 2

_I'm on a roll! So I'm sharing with you a day earlier than expected. It's remarkably easy to write when work has been rubbish, one day I will figure out why._

_**World  
Dishonored by your world  
Your world  
I'm haunted by your world**_

Castiel sees the news, sees the town and sees what the cameras cannot show the humans of the world. He can see the touch of grace on the town, the home to thousands of people, their lives taken from them in a moment of capricious glee, of wrath and holy fury. Misplaced entirely and Castiel can feel a flood of guilt, of shame at the actions of his kind, shame that pulls him from the room with the three humans who have welcomed him into their lives.

He blames himself for this, for the deaths, for the look of abject horror on the faces of Sam and Bobby and _Dean_. Dean, because he was the one who thought Castiel was worth saving and all that the angel can see at this point is that he has somehow disappointed Dean, that because he is also an angel, was an angel, he is also responsible for those deaths, as responsible as those who made it happen, as those who took action against the humans. He fled because he did not want to see that accusation in the eyes of the humans who have cared for him, who have taken him into their family and taught him how to live as they do, taught him how to enjoy the life that he now has.

It is not much, this life that he has now, not much more than he had when he was a true angel and stationed on the Earth to watch and to guard, away from Heaven and his family and Father and all the other things that were important to him. Not free to think or contemplate the strangeness of mankind, to consider his family and people and bask in the eternal love that they all have for their Father and, to a far lesser extent, for one another.

The only real difference is that he felt wanted and trusted and valued, _needed_, if one can truly need a broken angel, when with the Winchesters and he is afraid that the actions of his brothers and sisters will change that now. Worried that Bobby and the Winchesters will somehow hold him accountable for it because he should have seen this coming, should have known that they would not allow all of mankind to bask in a paradise that will be theirs to rule over if God is no longer here for them and Castiel cannot face that.

He does not want to see accusing glances, but did not mean to just _vanish_ like that. Is now on a road in the middle of nowhere, no food, no water, no money. He has nothing but the clothes on his back and no idea where he is. He could call out, hope that one of his brothers or sisters will hear him and take pity enough on him to give him aid, doubts that they will, thinks that perhaps he managed to truly offend Michael when he refused his offer to return home, to a place filled with beings who used him and tortured him and manipulated him so that they could end the world the way that they wanted to, quietly, slowly, in mystery and fear rather than in darkness and in hate.

So he does not call for them, simply walks, walks quickly, walks slowly, catches a ride where he can, but keeps on the go for days. Eventually a week passes, and still he walks, pausing every now and then at phone booths and thinking of trying to call Dean, remembers that he has no money in his pocket and no way to make it work, that his grace, damaged as it is, will more than likely destroy the phone rather than make it useful to him, so he walks on. Sometimes he stops in towns, sometimes he does not, having no money makes it hard for him to find somewhere to go, and all the time he tries to draw on that which is shattered within him to transport himself back to Bobby's. It does not work, not because he does not have the strength or the desire, but simply because he does not have the rush of emotion and the desperation to do it.

He walks, and he walks, and he walks, he walks until he almost longs for Michael to appear before him, with Raphael by his side, longs for the offer that the leader of the archangels made after Lucifer's death. He does not, cannot face the idea that by rejoining his people he will be betraying everything that Dean, Sam, Bobby and he fought for. So he moves on, always moving on and almost three weeks after he vanished without a trace he finally experiences kindness outside of the Winchester family, a car pulling up beside him driven by a man about Dean's age, pale freckled skin and red hair that has been bleached by the sun.

The offered ride is accepted with a minimum of trepidation, though Castiel can sense the way that the man seems to examine him, as though he thinks he knows him, thinks he recognises him and that unnerves the angel. He sits there anyway, reasons that if he needs to get away he will be able to. The man does not talk much past introducing himself, Daniel Mathers, and even though he has the man's name, Castiel is not comfortable with giving his, not his full name, introduces himself as Cas, that ridiculous nickname that Dean gave him seemingly millennia ago. Daniel accepts it, nods, and there is silence until they reach a crossroads. Literally. A crossroads that has a bar and a gas station, a place that Daniel tells him is safe, he does not know what to believe about that.

SPN

The light of the midday Texan sun barely seems to make it through the windows of the roadside bar, this is not because the windows are not clean, but rather down to the fact that, aside from the dust of the road that lightly coats the outside of the glass, the bar seems to be the sort of place that shuns the light. Even the interior lighting is dim, low, leaving shadows and dark corners everywhere.

Probably because of the remoteness of the place and the time of day, the bar is almost empty, quiet. A young family sit at the table nearest the window, the mother, not really very far out of her teens, softly cajoles her five year old daughter into eating her burger while, unnoticed by mom or dad, the two year old boy paints himself with his red sauce. The father seems to alternate between watching his car in the almost deserted parking lot outside, and keeping an eye on the bar's sole other patron, a middle aged man in ripped jeans, plaid shirt that has seen far better days and biker's boots. This man as the kind of facial scruff that shows that he has not shaved in perhaps five days and he is drinking morosely from a bottle of beer at the bar.

The only other occupant of the large dingy room at this time is the blonde woman behind the bar. Her attention is divided between the glass in her hand that she is cleaning, and the television that mumbles softly in the background, one short nailed finger pushing black rimmed glasses back up her nose, where they have begun to slide down, almost absently. When the man at the bar calls for another drink she raises the hand that holds the cloth, gestures to the t.v. and he falls silent, also turning his attention to the story that has grabbed all of her focus.

It is the same story that has been all over the news for the last three weeks, three weeks, three towns, all the residents and all the visitors, even those just passing through, dead for no apparent reason. As the newsreader finishes her speculating and reiteration of things that they have mentioned a dozen times, the barkeep and the patron share a look, a long gaze where they seem to communicate with more than simple words their thoughts on the matter. Then she reaches down and pulls out a beer, taking his money over his protests that he should be allowed a tab and returning to the cleaning of her glasses, though the television is shut off as the woman begins to talk about the current economic crisis.

There is an argument, now, between the mother and father at the table by the window and she glances at them, her attention drawn to the angry hisses of the woman and the low growling from the man. At the disruption she sets the glass to one side, laying the cloth over it, and steps around the bar, not so much ready to intercede as to make her presence known. She does not have to, the door opens and two other men enter, effectively cutting off the heated debate and the woman's attention is on the newcomers, both tall, one with dark hair and blue eyes, haggard looking, worn and dusty, the other with pale green eyes and sun bleached red hair, several days growth of beard on his face. It is clear that the red head and the woman know each other.

"Daniel," there is a laugh in her voice as she greets him, embraces him, and he is no less happy to see her, huffing out a gruff "Cassidy," into her hair, kissing her cheek before he turns and introduces his companion as Cas. The woman, Cassidy, looks at him for a long moment, a man with hair that sticks up at odd angles and blue eyes that are older, that have seen far more than any man his age should have, even a hunter and she knows _more _than her share of hunters. She grins at the other man, gestures for him to follow her to the bar so she can get him a drink, tells Daniel that Peter, her brother, is in the kitchen and can they please keep their more exuberant hellos until later when she does not run the risk of walking in on them. The red head simply grins, refuses to make any promises, and goes to the kitchen.

Cassidy, mean while, places a beer in front of Cas, tells him to hang fire for a moment while she makes a call, watches the man, somehow ancient and yet with a youth and naivety that she finds, if not endearing, then at least interesting. On the other end of the line, the ringing stops and cuts to voice mail.

"Bobby, hi, it's Cassidy," and though her voice is light, she has lived in Texas all her life and her accent is thick, "I think I found what you were looking for."

_**My blood is cold as ice  
Or so I have been told  
Show no emotion, and it can destroy your soul  
Another sacrifice  
To a tormentor your world wouldn't understand  
Turn away again**_

_Reviews are little Castiels that fly above our heads and mini Deans under the bed. A small Sam in hand and a tiny John by the chair, a review_ _that can show how much you care._

_Artemis_


	3. Chapter 3

_**You're angered, so am I  
A thousand fires burn  
A land of darkness from which I cannot return  
You're aching, so will I  
When I awake and discover that I have been damaged by your**_

They have stopped for lunch when Bobby calls them, tells them that Castiel has been found, that he is as safe as he can be given his circumstances and that the one who has found him owes the older hunter a favour, so she will at least make sure that he is safe as long as he is in her care. Dean has to wonder what that would mean for Castiel if this woman did _not_ have a debt to pay off. Bobby tells him not to let that bother him, although he would not recommend upsetting her.

Cassidy Black, the old hunter tells him, owns a bar in central Texas, well off the beaten track and known as a haven for hunters and their associates, much like Ellen's place. Once again it highlights to Dean just how out of the loop their father kept them, how far he went to keep them isolated from the hunter's world and people that he knew he could not trust. It makes little sense to him, but more and more these days, Dean has found himself questioning the things that his father did, his motives and it is with a little difficulty that he pulls his attention back to the things that Bobby is telling him. This place that Cassidy owns will be filled with other hunters, and it will be inevitable that some of them will know what happened in the field and in the monastery, will have heard rumours about what happened in Hell. Bobby does not say how they will have come across this information, although Dean is certain that hunters gossip worse than old women sometimes.

He is all ready to go though, to drive through the night until he reaches this bar and can reassure himself that his only source of knowledge about the _real_ organisation of Heaven is alive and safe so that he can yell at him a little bit, just to reiterate _why_ it is a monumentally bad idea for Castiel to be on his own. Unfortunately, simply hopping into the car and speeding down the highways and back roads is not going to work. Three towns in three weeks have been wiped out, for no apparent reason, the civillian population thinks, and they do not want to be anywhere densely populated. So even though they are being told not to panic, people are doing just that, filling the roads with slow moving vehicles and providing the angels with enough chaos to hide what they are really doing.

The trouble is, that even though they have researched until they were cross eyed and exhausted, Dean still does not know why the angels are doing this, because they got what the wanted, in the end, got free reign to bring Paradise on Earth unchallenged by Lucifer or his demons, he even half believes that most humans would not challenge it either. The angels are not taking that risk and Dean _needs_ to know why so that he can fix it. To do that he needs Castiel and to get to Cas he has to get through crowd after crowd of worried people, of panicking people trying to find somewhere to hide.

It annoys him, to be sat in traffic in this way, no means to move faster than a snail and no way to set everything right instantly. He had hoped, with Lucifer, that they had actually got it _right _this time. Turns out that they could only have gotten it more wrong if they had let Lucifer continue in his plans. Still, Dean has been given yet another reason to think that humans are utterly crazy.

Three towns have simply died in three weeks and in the time that he and Sam have been travelling they have met more than just people trying to get out of the firing line, even if they do not know what it is. They have met those who simply want to get _on_ with their lives, such as they shall continue to be, while they have the chance, those who are taking the opportunity to seize the day and live as they have always wanted to and, finally, those who believe that what is happening is '_an act of God_', those are the ones that Dean wants to beat until they are bloody and unconscious, wants to scream and rave at them about how stupid and blind they are, about how their God does not care, even if it _is_ his angels who are doing this.

He does not, has enough problems without taking on everyone who actually _has_ faith of any description. He just drives through the traffic, makes his way to rural Texas without losing his temper completely and is relieved to find almost silent roads on the way to Black's.

It really is out of the way, he passes maybe two other cars in the hour that it takes him to get away from the bulk of the traffic and to the bar. What he sees is almost a jumble of wooden buildings, buildings that have been added onto and shored up over the course of decades, possibly even centuries for all Dean knows and he remembers what Bobby told him, that hunters have been using the bar as a safe haven since it was built, even though no one really knows when that was, not event the woman who owns it. What Bobby _does_ know, is that she has an impressive collection of old books, a collection that Sam would love to get his hands on if she will let them. Somehow, Dean thinks that if she has gotten word about who is causing the destruction of the towns, about who put them into a position to be doing it unchallenged, then she will be less than likely to allow it. He does not mention it to Sam, part of him not wanting to disappoint his brother when he is just starting to recover properly from the events of the last few years, to show signs of being the Sammy that Dean raised, not the Sam that Dean's death and Ruby managed to turn him into.

When they get inside the place is no less of a jumble, old pieces of furniture mixed with newer chairs and benches, dim lights, even though it is almost dark outside, and rough looking men and women at the tables and the bar. In amongst them all is Castiel, he is talking softly to a man, a hunter by the way that he is dressed, with red hair and an easy smile. The blonde woman behind the bar peers at them over her glasses as they enter, pushes them up her nose and nods to the red head as she mutters to Cas.

The angel looks at them, mutters to his companion, and approaches them. Dean can see that he is alright, is relieved to see him and they stand awkwardly for a moment before he relents and pulls Cas into a hug, clapping him twice on the back before turning a thunderous glare on him, not so much because he is angry, but more because he is relieved that the angel is alright and annoyed because he was so worried. Thankfully, Castiel seems to understands that, bows his head in apology and it is enough that Dean only hisses out a quiet demand to know what he was thinking before letting the matter drop until later, because the people here cannot learn what Castiel really is.

For now, though, they go to the bar.

SPN

Cassidy does not trust people easily. She particularly does not trust hunters, views them as little more than a group of revenge obsessed, angst ridden, soul destroyed sociopaths, most of whom have a one way ticket to Hell no matter what they do or how many innocents they save. Even Daniel, her brother's lover, long term partner, boyfriend or whatever it is the pair of them are calling it these days, is not safe from the opinion that she formed of hunters when she was a child watching her father run this hunters haven. Much as she adores Daniel, loves him as the brother he almost is, she knows that he has a dark side, a very dark side, and she really wishes that were not so, wishes that he were one hundred percent trustworthy.

So it is with natural wariness born of long experience and simple paranoia that she regards the two new faces that walk through the door, both tall, both attractive and both with eyes that carry almost as much pain, sorrow, guilt and anguish as Castiel's, eyes that have seen far more in their time than man or hunter should have. It makes her wonder if the rumours are true.

Truthfully, Cassidy is eager for Cas to leave, even though the three of them, her, Daniel and Peter, have worked hard to keep him in the bar until his friends arrive, not eager to have his skittishness make them into liars. All Cassidy has with hunters is her reputation, much as she wants him gone, she cannot let Castiel jeopardise that. Still, he makes her uncomfortable, makes her customers uncomfortable, with the way that he stares, the way he gets too close when he meets someone or talks to them, barely breaking eye contact and it is almost like he is trying to look inside them, like he is trying to see into their souls and if that bothers Cassidy, then it is certain to really upset the hunters in her bar.

Just like they do not like people who stare at them like they are trying to see into their thoughts, hunters do not like the unnatural either and Castiel, well, Castiel _is_ unnatural, though she could not say exactly why she thinks that. Part of her wants to like him, with his naivety and innocence, in the sense that he is aware of the bad things in the world but not in the way that they may apply to him, that like all humans he has the capacity for such things. She wants to like him in the way that Daniel and Peter do, because they like him well enough, Cassidy suspects that is as much to do with the fact that he is attractive in his own way with those big blue ancient eyes and impossible hair. Attractive does not make up for the unnaturalness that is the bizarre man who walked through her door two days ago.

So she is wary of them, the Winchesters, but she cannot deny that the younger, taller, one, Sam, is engaging in his manners, while the other two glare at each other, Dean drinking a beer and Castiel quietly asking if Dean has found anything. _That_ catches her attention. Sam's too apparently because he looks in their direction, frowns at them and shakes his head a little. The elder brother evidently agrees with the sentiment, mumbles that they will tell him later, in private, and turns his attention away. That rankles with Cassidy somewhat, but she understands it.

What she does not understand is the rush of air that blows the door to the bar open, or the blind man who walks in looking like he sees everything, tall and confident, hand raised to touch any who approach and they fall at his feet like nothing more than grass in the wind.

"Castiel," he seems to stare at the dark haired man and the Winchesters move to stand in front of him.

This, Cassidy decides, is definitely _not_ good.

_**  
World  
Dishonored by your world  
Your world  
I'm haunted by your world**_

_Reviews are little Castiels that fly above our heads and mini Deans under the bed. A small Sam in hand and a tiny John by the chair, a review_ _that can show how much you care._

_Artemis_


	4. Chapter 4

_I have never found a fic so easy to write as this one, aside from maybe Hand of Sorrow and Prayer, and I'm really eager to get it out so that I can move onto the next one! Also, I've borrowed a couple of lines from the show, virtual mini-Castiel's to the people who spot them!!_

(_**Never will I be welcomed  
Amongst the heartless monsters you surround yourself with  
Feeding off the pain and misfortune of others  
A maniacal unit of sub-human parasites  
Warped into a feeding frenzy with the smell of fresh blood**_

Raphael regards the task that he has been given, to wipe all memory of the existence of the people his brethren have killed from the rest of man kind. It is not a small task, certainly not an easy one and he has been given the pick of the garrisons to aid him. He find that he does not wish this, that he does not wish for the end of humanity to be at the hands of angel or of demon, that they should be allowed to meet their natural end, whether that be in peace or violence.

This makes Raphael's entire being ache, makes his grace tremble within him, because he believes that they have been alone too long, that his Father has truly forsaken them all, Angel, Man and Demon, all lost and alone. Raphael knows that he would feel less alone, less lonely, if he were to heal the blindness of his vessel, so that he could see as his brethren do once more. He does not wish that, either, much as Michael pushes and almost orders him to do so. It is isolating him though, and this gives him far too much time to think about what is happening, what his kind are doing and he knows that this task is one set to prevent that, set to lead Raphael away and distract him while Michael does whatever he thinks in necessary.

He welcomes the distraction, but he needs someone to remember, needs someone to mourn those people, not because it will ease his conscience any, he does not have one, but because it is the right thing to do and while Raphael has begun to question and feel the flutter of dreaded doubt on the edge of his awareness, he is still capable of discerning right from wrong and to simply forget about thousands of people, _that _is wrong. The archangel does not view as disobedience, as such, because that is not what it is, it is simply following the order to the best of his ability, and Michael was unreasonable to think that Raphael would be able to find a way to make the whole world forget it. The fact that he knows the exact group of people that he will allow to remember is neither here nor there, the fact that the group is all made up of hunters and their intimate associates is simply due to the fact that they will be the ones easiest to single out and shield.

It has nothing to do with disobeying.

He believes that if he keeps telling himself that, that if he keeps on seeing the beauty around him that his grace gifts him with, he will come to believe that it is the truth, that he is simply doing the right thing because this is what it is.

Raphael has one other task, one that he approaches somewhat more warily. It is one thing to leave every hunter in the world with the ability to remember the people that his brethren are killing without thought or concern, it is another entirely to run the risk of trying to complete this task when the object of it is protected by three such people and all of them armed with weapons capable of killing his kind. Capable of killing his kind and more than likely they are more than willing to kill him if they believe it will prevent more humans dying.

He should take someone with him, he knows this, knows that Castiel's current location is one that is more dangerous than he or the Winchesters can possibly suspect, a place crawling with hunters and run by a woman who will protect her own no matter the cost, a woman who has the respect and trust of enough hunters that they will defend her if they feel she is threatened. He cannot let that prevent him from obeying his orders and the air hardly moves as he feels his consciousness and the borrowed physical form shift in space and slightly in time, crossing the vast distance almost instantaneously to the human eye, even though to an angel such a journey seems to take longer, time moving differently for them than it does for the mortals, in a manner similar to the time in Hell.

He regards the jumble of buildings and the feel of the souls within, taking a moment to let the despair of many of the ones gathered wash over him in a wave of something that is foreign, distant, touching him even though he does not _feel_ it. It intrigues him, makes him wonder if this is why Castiel chose to remain broken and alone, so that he can truly experience that which they are denied. There is not just sorrow in that place, however, there is happiness and love too, something that makes him question the wisdom of destroying mankind, if even hunters can feel such things with all the darkness that they see.

He could stand here, on this road, letting the wealth of emotion wash over him in the darkness that is not in his grace fuelled sight for hours. Could take them and twist them around in his mind and relax the barriers in his borrowed body so that they could truly touch him, so that he could experience the barest echo of them, except that he has a task to perform and an offer to make and it is something that he cannot do from the side of the road.

Archangels are fierce, he thinks as he gestures for the door to open. They are absolute. As if sensing the threat that he is, the unnatural thing in their natural world, those gathered in the bar begin to rush at him, falling at his feet as he touches them and over whelms them, renders them unconscious so that he can complete the task set upon him. Watching he way that Dean moves in front of Castiel, however, the expression on his face that seems to be one of anger and defiance and utter stubbornness, he has to wonder when Dean, the righteous man, became more terrifying than even an archangel. There is the glitter of silver in his hand, and if Dean could kill Lucifer while he possessed the body of one of the hunter's friends, Raphael knows that he would not hesitate to destroy an archangel he neither knows nor cares for if he is protecting his friend and his brother.

He spreads his hands, knowing that among humans this would symbolise that he carries no weapon, except that his hands _are_ weapons and all here know that. The woman has a shotgun pointed at him and he knows that it cannot hurt him, but the inconvenience of having to fix the injury that it would cause to his vessel rankles, makes him twitch his hand and watch dispassionately as the shotgun narrowly misses Sam Winchester's head on it's way to the floor in front of the bar. He hears Dean growl out his name, hears the barely disguised hostility and wonders if this is the day that he will need to heed Michael's advise about the man.

The attention of the archangel then turns on Castiel fully, sightless eyes meeting blue and his presence a command, a command to tell them to stand down and the lower angel looks away, mutters the name of his former charge in a voice low and earnest, moves forward to stand before Raphael, back straight and head held high and he knows, before his younger brother speaks, before the offer is even made again, that it will be refused.

SPN

Castiel does not have the chance to warn the others of the sudden influence of Raphael's presence, the essence of an archangel filling the air, like the other wants him to know of his arrival, as the door is blown open and hunters are felled. His instant conclusion is that Raphael has been sent to kill him, to destroy him for refusing Michael's offer and because his knowledge of angels is dangerous.

He regrets, now, that he remained in this place with Cassidy and her family when she offered him a place to stay until Sam and Dean came for him, was alarmed that she even knew who he was until she told him that Bobby had told her to keep an eye out for him, that she owed him a favour, one that remains unspecified, and she has a reputation to uphold, one as a reliable source and friend to hunters. He does not know how much of that he is willing to believe, was fully prepared to leave the next day if there was no sign of his friends, and was unbelievably relieved when they walked through the door, though he can sense Dean's displeasure, feel it in the way that the man holds himself, see it in his green eyes even as he saw the relief there too.

Now it is all undone, Raphael is here, his entire presence a command and Castiel knows that it is time that he stop hiding behind the Winchesters, that this is his lot now and he has to start defending himself, has to learn to be as Dean is, as Sam is, to stand on his own two feet and admit no weakness, his time wandering alone has taught him that. He steps forward and though inside he is terrified, he straightens, hears Dean's surprised murmur behind him and wants to tell him that he is alright, that he knows what he is doing, but does not.

"I am not here to cause harm," Raphael's voice is flat, toneless, "I am come only to return you to the arms of your brethren. Let me heal you, Little One," the last is said with an air of desperation and even though Castiel knows that the offer is genuine, that the archangel does, _truly_, want to help him, to heal him of all the ills done to him by his people, he cannot return to them, not knowing what he does, not with all of his experiences, and he tells him this.

He tells Raphael that he has felt too much, seen too much, been shown far too much in the way of human kindness to return to the sterile, perfect, world of the angels. That this is where he belongs now, that he is what they have made him into and he will not mourn the loss of his place in their reality when they cannot see the true wonder that their Father created here, even with the pain and the lies and the fear that they suffer from each day.

It seems that Raphael understands, or if it is not understanding, it is acceptance, because he nods and is gone, simply vanished and that is surprising to Castiel, because he did not expect the other to leave so easily, thought that there would be threats and repercussions from his refusal. There is a feeling of almost triumph when he turns back to Sam and Dean, pride that he finally stood his own ground without giving in to the fear and anger that threatens to overwhelm him each time he sees one of his own kind.

That feeling vanishes abruptly when he sees Cassidy gesture to the hunters Raphael left standing, when he hears the sound of the doors closing and bolts slamming into place. His heart sinks when he sees Daniel pull a gun from the back of his jeans, his face hard with distrust and anger, hearing the click of a dozen safety catches being released as Sam and Dean reach for their own concealed guns even knowing that they are hopelessly out numbered.

"I believe, gentlemen, we need to have a bit of a _chat_."

_**  
Open your eyes and see the creatures for what they are  
A swirling mess of hatred and envy  
Don't be naive enough to think you're unaffected  
The conversion has already begun...)**_

_Reviews are little Castiels that fly above our heads and mini Deans under the bed. A small Sam in hand and a tiny John by the chair, a review_ _that can show how much you care._

_Artemis_


	5. Chapter 5

_And so this one is done, the first part of the Angel Wars arc. I've already got the next one planned, Sacred Lie, which will hopefully come as easily as this one has. Thanks again to readers and reviewers, see you at the next one._

_**  
You're frightened, so am I  
A world of demons wait  
Watching the movements and filling my heart with hate  
You're burning, so will I  
When I awake and discover how I have been ravaged by your**_

At the sight of the hunters moving to bolt the door and the sound of a dozen safeties being released, Dean reacts on instinct, reaching for his own gun even though he knows that they do not stand a chance, that they are out numbered and by the time they have managed to take out even half a dozen of the hunters, they will probably be lying dead or dying on the floor. Which is a real shame, because he has not even had a chance to tell Cas how pleased he is to see that three weeks alone and fending for himself have caused the angel to finally stand up for himself.

So hearing Cassidy say that she needs to talk to them, the implication there that they are going to tell her what is happening, tell her why a blind man just managed to take out half her bar and why he wanted Castiel in the first place, is not at all comforting. This, Dean knows, is not going to be an easy task, but if he wants to lessen the possibility of the three of them winding up most definitely dead, he will need to do just that. So he leaves his weapon where it is, is not surprised when the man he was introduced to as Daniel reaches for it anyway, takes it from him with the promise of pain if Dean fights for it, hears his brother's muffled "hey" and Castiel's words of confusion.

Cassidy is calling for another as the trio are lead from the bar and into a back room, a room with a large wooden table, eight chairs around it and a variety of maps, laptops and books scattered across it. It is obviously a research room and marked on the maps are the three towns that have recently been decimated, Cassidy is evidently looking into it as well, and Dean _knows_ that she is not going to like the answers that he is going to give her.

They trade anxious glances as they sit, Daniel opposite them, gun on the table in easy reach should they try anything. Cassidy and another man join them after only a few moments, the noise of the bar fading out as the door swings quietly shut. Though the other man does not wear glasses, his hair is the same dusty blonde and his eyes are the same pale green as Cassidy's and Dean assumes that he is her brother. Daniel greets him as Peter, and there is a note in his voice as he says it, an unspoken moment where both check that the other is alright as the blonde slides into his seat, touching the back of Daniel's hand for just a moment before turning his attention to his sister.

Cassidy's face is grave, her eyes tired and she takes off her glasses so that she can rub them for a moment. Then she is demanding her answers and there is no way that Dean is not going to give them to her, not with what just went down in the bar, not with the way that her brother and friend are glaring at him with weapons in easy reach and certainly not with her research into all those murdered people strewn across the table he is sat at. He does not, however, tell her everything, in fact he omits rather a lot of it.

He tells her about Lucifer, about the things that he did, possessing Sam, controlling him, about Katie's interference and the release of the Horsemen and finally, at the end of it all, he tells them about how he killed Lucifer, because he thought it was the right thing to do. Tells her that the angels have turned on them, have decided to finish what Lucifer started. He cannot tell her about how he and Sam are responsible for Lucifer's getting free, about Castiel's torture or killing Zachariah. Does not say that he is beginning to believe that they were manipulated and mislead by Sandalphon so that there would be little they could do _but_ kill Lucifer.

She looks at them for a long time when he is finished talking, eyes darting between the three of them and lips drawn into a thin line, it ages her though Dean knows that she is only just in her late twenties. Then she stands, tells them that she needs to think on it, and leaves the room. Sam tries to rise and follow her and her brother shakes his head, hand straying closer to his weapon, informs Sam that he will stay seated until told otherwise.

It all lapses into uncomfortable silence.

SPN

Angels, Cassidy is not sure what she had expected to hear from Dean when he began talking, but angels was certainly not it. She does not trust him, can tell that he is leaving out large chunks of information, large amounts of detail about the circumstances leading up to all of this. She has heard the story, the rumour, Dean Winchester who sold his soul for Sam, went to Hell and then got yanked out after four months by an angel, no doubt an angel who is now the wrong feeling man sat to Dean's left in the back room.

She does not speak to the hunters who question her as she walks through and out of the bar, simply shakes her head, distant as she thinks, and they leave her to it, more than happy with her cousin behind the counter still serving the drinks. Her cousin who was in to drink after shutting his small store, not here to cover her while she deals with the never ending conspiracies that go with working with hunters in the manner she does.

Dealing with hunters is hard work, having to sort the ones who you know will have your back in a fight, even if you cannot trust them, from the ones who would allow you to be used as bait is not easy. She has no more or less of a knack for it than Peter does, although he trusts Daniel utterly, as he should, where she cannot. There was no other reason for the bar, and by default the ones who drink there, to fall under her control, except that Peter went to college, was away when she graduated and her father decided that it was time for him to move on to hunting. He left her in charge and by the time Peter got back, Cassidy was as trusted by the customers as her father. It is awkward, but it works, continues to work, for them and Peter has told her on several occasions that he does not want the responsibility she has.

Thinking on what Dean has just told her, Cassidy understands why. She now has to make a decision, a difficult one, she has to decide what to tell the people gathered and waiting for an answer.

To tell them the truth, as far as she knows it, would be to paint a target onto the backs of the Winchesters and their angel friend, to lie, or tell them nothing, would be to lose all standing that she has with these people. She has worked too hard to lose everything because of these three men, worked too hard to lose it all because the angels have finally decided to follow where their fallen brother lead. When her father left the bar was close to shutting down, too much debt and too many fights, he had lost interest in running it for a profit years before and the bar had only been kept open because it was, still is, a known safe house for hunters. If Cassidy upsets her regular visitors, she will lose the bar, she cannot remain open without the revenue the hunters bring.

It is times like this that she wishes she had more control over the hunters when they were in the outside world, wishes that there was a greater level of organisation to their little section of society, some sort of leader that this could go to rather than resting on her shoulders.

At the end of it all, however, there is the simple truth that Dean, Sam and Castiel know what is happening, they know who is doing it, and the look in Dean's eyes when he spoke, when he told her about Raphael and his offer, about Michael and the fact that he has turned on them, has turned on Castiel because he has remained at Dean's side through all of this, tells her that he is determined to stop it or die trying.

So she does not have all the facts, is positive that nothing she could do would make Dean tell her and it is with a sigh that she comes to her decision, goes back inside and returns to the back room, glances at her brother and Daniel who seem to be having a silent argument that does not so much stop, as pauses as she closes the door softly behind her. All eyes turn towards Cassidy as she speaks, voice hushed, tells them that she knows they are hiding something, that it is their prerogative to do so if they feel it necessary, but that she gets the feeling there is more to the whole 'angels are trying to kill us thing' than they are letting on.

It is not so much saying that they are free to leave, she could only stop them by killing them when all is said and done, and she has no intention of killing them, but she wants them out of her bar, wants them away and to stay gone until they have a solution or until she tells them otherwise. If they go against her, she will not stop one of the hunters who use her bar as a haven from reacting as they find most natural. They understand, do not fight her decision, they seem to know that they would not stand a chance against the numbers she has access to, and she watches as Daniel escorts them out the back door, listens to the roar of their car as it speeds into the night.

When Daniel returns his face is apologetic, he tells them that he is leaving again, someone needs to verify Winchester's story and of the three of them he is the best one to do it. Cassidy nods, whispers to him to be careful, and leaves the room so that her brother and friend can say their goodbyes in private.

Cassidy knows a lot about the weird and the wonderful, the scary and the dark, the natural and the unnatural and right now, she wishes that she knew more. Still, Daniel is going to go out and gather what information he can and she has her contacts across the country, with any luck, between them, they will be able to start finding answers and perhaps, just perhaps, they will be able to help the Winchesters do it right this time.

Somehow, that thought just does not fill her with much hope.

_**World  
Dishonored by your world  
Your world  
I'm haunted by your world**_

_Reviews are little Castiels that fly above our heads and mini Deans under the bed. A small Sam in hand and a tiny John by the chair, a review_ _that can show how much you care._

_Artemis_


End file.
